January 2004 / Volume Five / Issue One
NOTE: This poem is divided into two parts. Click ">" at the bottom of this page to access the next.
Scott Taylor
Dreams

A horse race (among other ominous images i can’t quite remember), in which all four of the horse’s legs came off, so that his body was just skidding along the track like a car with its brakes locked up, the blood mingling with the dirt as he skidded, the announcers commentating indifferently all the while……

A frog in a bowl, he is slippin and slidin on the curvy sides, tryin to keep 'is head above water, but dey done designed the bowl all sadistic-like and he's a'strugglin in vain, i long to find him a rock or a prop to give him a chance to relax but the powers that be dey want to keep him down and drownin, so in pain and for lack of a better response i wake up

A fuzzy little creature who is very happy to see me, neither a dog nor a cat but some new critter never been seen before, he is cavorting tongue lolling and looking like a delighted little chia-pet as i play with him, there are others there like him but they are not nearly as happy to see me as he is.

There are
ducks running all over the yard, and a bulldog chasing after them. When he catches them, he rends them bill from feather. i keep chasing after him, trying to tackle him. Whenever i catch him, a few more ducks make it under the fence.

Cats. Obvious parallels between cats and women. So graceful and elegant, so cruel and aloof. The cat rolls on her back lazily. i reach down to rub her tummy. She reaches up and sinks her needle-sharp claws into my forearm.

i am at a party, i am playing pool with Dave Levarnski (he of the big nose, played hockey, liked Liz of the luscious legs), and there are a number of tables around us and a party to boot, and the President is in disguise, he rips off his mask and reveals himself and calls forth the Vice-President (somehow Al Gore, for some reason), and announces something, i don't know what the fuck about, but it's very self-important

Having to move again because i am in trouble with the law, i have to move to Connecticut this time, i am looking at a new house and not impressed although i can feel the presence of the previous family's powerful history, and the law is really after me i am always one step ahead of them, running from safe house to safe house. The fucking Virginia tax board brought this on. i made fucking 3 cents last year and yet they are going to challenge my refund. Right when i'm trying to get a mortgage. believe i'm paranoid keep dreaming about running from the law.

My classmates and i are all sitting in a field, waiting for Richard Nixon to take the podium. He walks up, and makes some lame-ass greeting, and someone groans. i walk over to the opposite end of the field with a group of guys, where some sort of quasi-military training is taking place, field drills, boy soldiers trying to perform exercises according to regimented standards. i keep making mistakes, not able to keep the line straight, and i feel the eyes of the disapproving masses. Finally, i throw down my flag, shove the guy next to me, and walk off, not really caring what i’ll find beyond the confines of the camp.

Gooses swimming up to me and biting me. Then dream about shopping center full of blacks, i go from department to department getting the shit beat out of me.
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